


Work Visit

by HugsNotDrugs



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Bad Weather, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Married Couple, Not Canon Compliant, Office Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sweet, Tickling, an obsession with curls, its hot i swear, they're idiots, umm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 18:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugsNotDrugs/pseuds/HugsNotDrugs
Summary: john and sherlock get freaky at the clinicrecipe for disaster? definitely, but when have that stopped them?





	Work Visit

**Author's Note:**

> edit: just changed warning to none apply, thats all ^^;
> 
> this was supposed to be a 1500 word pwp challenge i gave myself but it... turned into twice as long T///T welp
> 
> another thing: i havent watched beyond season 2 ep 2 rn (cant find ep online) so obviously no reichenbach or anything, but i hope you still like it ;u;
> 
> -virgin blushies-
> 
>  
> 
> grammar? what is grammar??

Dr. John Hamish Watson was bored out of his mind. His fingertips commanded one of the cheap plastic office pens, twirling it ‘round and ‘round in the same repeated motion as his other arm propped up his chin in order to keep his unfocused gaze directed at his current client as his mind drifted away through the window in his office. The former army corpsman had been diagnosing flu cases left and right as long-time Londoners tried to adjust to the abnormal cold that had descended upon the bustling city a week prior. John sighed internally as he scrawled out yet another prescription of Tamiflu for a young man with a brilliant red nose. 

“Thank you, Dr. Watson.” The man said piteously, his congested nose punctuating his diction with a sniffle. He got up from the patient’s chair and shuffled his way out of the room.

“Yes, yes. Remember to bundle up, now.” John replied, struggling very hard to keep the boredom out of his voice as he clicked his pen closed and let it clatter onto the papers on his office desk. He fought to not turn his neck for the billionth time that day to check the clock on the wall behind him. Though it was about as cheery as damp laundry outside his window, the slight warmness of his room had him restless. He tugged at the white cotton collar of his doctor’s coat, shifting it to a more comfortable position so that he could breathe. 

What he wouldn’t give for Sherlock to come and rescue him from this place, just for a day. John smiled to himself, imagining Sherlock bursting into the room with such enthusiasm that sprouts from a good ol’ murder case, looking for the assistance of his “best man”. Colleague. Best friend. Husband. John pressed his ringed hand to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm there. 

How quickly and perfectly they had fallen for each other was a beautiful mystery, only known by Fate herself, but John knew he held steadfastly all the reasons why he was head over heels for the dangerous, beautiful genius that is Sherlock Holmes. No moment spent was more beautiful than in bed together, John wishing nothing more than to kiss all those reasons into Sherlock’s milky pale skin and make him feel loved the way he deserves. The piercing blue-green eyes of his lover breached John’s rib cage and settled over his heart. He could almost feel the other man’s soft caress, nimble fingers running along his button-up and down his torso.

“Oy.” The doctor frowned down at his tightening trousers, willing his growing erection to go down. He was still in a professional setting, after all.

“Can you cure my illness, Dr. Watson?” A familiar voice, articulate and rich, brought John’s head to snap up sharply. He almost cried at the sight of Sherlock, standing at the door with a barely-repressed grin painted on his face. How good it felt that John could see that smile again, as if it had been years and years ago that he got to see his lover in person. He almost lept out of his seat, holding back a sob in his throat.

“Sherlock! Your presence couldn’t have been more well-timed.” John’s coat flapped behind him as he took three giant steps forward, almost running towards the ebony-haired man. Sherlock stepped forward also and they fell into each other with an unreplicable grace, Sherlock’s hands- the left adorned with a silver band similar to John’s- coming to rest at John’s waist and lower back, supporting the shorter man’s back to arch forward as his arms wrapped around the taller man’s back. Sherlock bowed to kiss his dear, dear Watson, face still ruddy from the outside cold. Their teeth clacked once because John couldn’t stop smiling, but they melted into a passionate kiss, longing to be closer together.

Sherlock began tugging at his scarf and slung his coat onto the patient’s chair, flexing his torso, his revealing violet dress shirt stretching over his lean form. He was beginning to undo the buttons of the garment when John’s hands reached up to catch his gently. 

“Oh, Sherlock, my love. We mustn’t! I’m at work!” He said apologetically, about to turn to fetch Sherlock his coat. A smirk dragged at Sherlock’s bow-shaped lips. Ah, of course. John couldn’t help but smile in return, awaiting his genius to elucidate how his every action was, in fact, perfectly-planned up to this moment for their maximum pleasure.

“There is no need to worry, my dear doctor. You see, your lunch break is coming up promptly judging by the dwindling number of patients in the waiting room despite the abnormal cold, providing a sufficient amount of time for us to… have our rendezvous. Your junior colleague-Spencer, was it?- has taken pity on you and transferred a few patients who have been scheduled for check-ups to his charge without your knowledge. Bisexual. Unhappily married.” After a pause. “Considerate.” At this point, Sherlock’s expression had gone sour; a strange, insecure look that few mortals had lived to see.

John only smiled warmly, adoration in his eyes. “You’re brilliant, Sherlock. Bloody brilliant.” He leaned up to kiss the man lightly. Sherlock’s face stayed comically blank as he asked completely casually:

“Come again?”

“You’re brilliant. Beautiful. Astounding. Fantastic. Really fantastic.” The taller man struggled not to smile as his John praised him to no end, happy to indulge him. He wrapped the blond man in a tight hug, his grin now spanning his entire face. John breathed in Sherlock’s smell: a dusty, sharp thing that always somehow left him yearning more. His nose unconsciously traced along Sherlock’s jugular, lips moving up the detective’s neck to graze at the sensitive skin which was now beginning to flush with a rosy pink. The pale man emitted a quiet, sensuous gasp tinged with arousal. John came to nip at Sherlock’s jaw before pressing their lips together, Sherlock reciprocating by swiping his tongue across John’s soft lips, seeking entrance. The shorter man parted his lips with a blissful sigh and Sherlock dove in almost desperately, eager for John. John. John. 

Sherlock had always loved the taste of John, fell in love with it as soon as he had known how he tasted: something warm and comforting, like the combat medic himself who went to war to protect and save lives instead of ending them. Their tongues explored each other’s warm mouths, sharing the heat that emanated off of their bodies in steady waves.

Then Sherlock was back to it again, nearly tearing the buttons off of his dress shirt as he rushed to rid himself of his clothes, his hips thrusting lightly against John’s torso, having to make do with their height difference. A shiver of excitement ran down John’s spine as he fully realized what they were about to do in (to!) his clean and neat office. He could lose his job for being so indecent and sinful. Sherlock pushed the door closed behind him with one leg, relishing the pane of glass that left the view of the office quite visible to any passerby who chose to be acute.

One idiot was manageable, but idiots love company, and John had that taste for the stupid and dangerous. All intelligent thought flew out of his head as his eyes settled on the line of Sherlock’s clavicle through his unbuttoned shirt, skin made shiny by a layer of sweat that had already formed. His only job now was to make Sherlock’s eyes roll into the back of his head from the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy. Sherlock’s light eyes glowed mischievously as he used his body to guide John back into his chair, each movement of his shoulders and his pelvis a delicious suggestion. The doctor’s chair gave a little creak under the weight of the two grown men as Sherlock positioned himself over John. The consulting detective gave his doctor a quick peck before looking into his eyes carefully.

“You’re really okay with this?” John could have cried at the amount of love and concern in Sherlock’s voice, making 100% sure that _he_ was comfortable despite how strained and eager John could see he was. He marveled at how wonderful of a creature Sherlock was.

“God, yes.” His voice came out quiet and trembling with want. To prove it, John grasped his lover’s slim hips, grinding their erections together, their trousers offering delicious friction. They undid their belts in all about two seconds, John’s rather sizable length already peeking out over the waistband of his pants. It was a throbbing thing, tip tinged red as it curved upwards to the sky. Against his best judgment, John unzipped his trousers all the way and pulled out his cock. John could see the bobbing of Sherlock’s Adam’s apple, followed the motion of his swallow as he reached out a long, pale hand to wrap around both their shafts. John put his hand over their lengths as well, index finger mostly playing with Sherlock’s slit the way he liked it. John was pleased to find that his hand had gotten sticky with their moist pre-cum mingled together. He shot Sherlock a lecherous grin as he licked the warm liquid off, making a show of lathing his fingers for every drop of the salty liquid, a mix of both of them. It was an unexpected delight to watch the hunger in Sherlock’s hooded eyes, almost dangerous in his lust. 

Each were so entirely enraptured in the other that when a sudden rapping on the door came, they both nearly jumped out of their skin. _shit shit shitshitshit!_ John saw his pitifully short life flash before his eyes for about the fiftieth time, only this time with way less pride and a lot more mortification. He was going to die with his dick out. 

It was Spencer, the doctor who took a few of John’s appointments off his hands for the day, unfortunately tall enough to attempt peering through the glass to look for John. From the view through the small window, it was not immediately revealed that John was doing *ahem* carnal things with his companion, or, that there was a companion at all, for Sherlock had slipped under the desk with a devilish grin, hands caressing John’s calves and working their way up to pull down his pants, taking the head of John’s penis into his velvety lips. John could hardly get up to greet his colleague in his current state, so he only called out for him to come in. Spencer opened the door. 

“How are you doing, Dr. Watson?” His junior adjusted the metal frame of his glasses a little nervously as he shuffled into the room, one arm holding a file folder.

“Lovely, lovely. Thank you very much, Spencer.” John’s voice caught as Sherlock gave a particularly aggressive suck at the name. The doctor tried to appear nonchalant, never mind the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the clothes that weren’t his in the patient’s chair. John prayed to the gods that Spencer wouldn’t notice and just leave quickly. Unbeknownst to the innocent man, Sherlock was working his throat like a sex god, pleasuring the cool and composed doctor who was struggling to keep it so above the desk. He used the hot wetness of his tongue to swirl around John’s sensitive head, self-satisfaction emanating off of himself in waves that John could feel through his desk.

“The department’s asking for these by the end of the day.” Spencer said apologetically, opening the file folder to hand John a packet of papers. John took them, concentrating on not making his hands tremble so much. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Please do enjoy your lunch break, I was only afraid that I wouldn’t be able to reach you another time.” 

John nodded a few too many times. “Same to- ah- you.” Sherlock had picked up the pace, letting John’s cock bump the back of his tight throat each time, careful not to hit his head on the desk.

“Are you feeling alright, Dr. Watson? It wouldn’t be good for you to have caught the flu.” Spencer asked with genuine concern, surveying John’s flushed face.

“Yes… just choked on my words for a- a bit.” John hoped his colleague didn’t see the slight panic swimming in his heterochromic eyes.

“Well, that’s quite alright, then. Take care, doctor.” The meek man darted a shy smile at John before exiting, closing the door behind him. John sighed and ran a hand through his damp grey hair. Sherlock was going to be the death of him.

“You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you, Sherlock?” John murmured, looking down at the man servicing him on his hands and knees, lips raw and red stretched around his cock, still sucking. Though he was loath to do so, John grasped a fistful of raven curls and pulled, ready to move on to pounding into Sherlock’s wet hole. The detective pulled off with a wet pop, a purr rumbling from his throat.

“What will you do about it, doctor?” From under the table, Sherlock’s eyes gleamed playfully as he nuzzled John’s member. John scooched back his chair eagerly, allowing Sherlock to latch back onto him, nudging his aching cock with his ass, the bottom of his tidy black trousers getting smeared with precum. John had yet to release and now his cock pulsed with each brush of contact with the expensive silk. In a flurry of motion, John stripped Sherlock of his trousers and boxer briefs, letting the luxurious clothing fall onto the office floor with a soft _thump_. Sherlock, hardly minding, only eagerly positioned himself over the throbbing length, ready to sink down onto it and fuck.

“Wait, we need lu-” John’s cock gave one last twitch before spurting a rope of cum over Sherlock’s arse. Then a second. The two froze, listening to the soft patter of a few white drops making contact with the previously-clean floor.

“Or not.” John muttered, one hand over his eyes in embarrassment. Premature ejaculation was something only hormonal teenagers did, not a middle-aged man like him. He felt a cool hand on his wrist pull his hand away from his face, greeting him with a loving smile, no hint of mockery anywhere.

“I’m glad to know my foreplay was at least adequate.” Sherlock said lightly, pressing his forehead to John’s, bumping their noses. He could feel the lines there, premature wrinkles that told John’s story and made his face all the prettier to Sherlock. Slender fingers came up to trace at the smile lines at the corner of his eyes, moving down to his cheek to caress it tenderly, and John shuddered at the coldness of the band of metal on Sherlock’s ring finger. “Do you still want to do this?” John flexed his fingers and nodded determinedly, though his complexion had gone a little pink from discomfiture.

“It’s my miscalculation, after all. I didn’t plan for such a passionate welcome.” John blushed at those words, now a little embarrassed by his own intensity. 

Sherlock gracefully sat back on his legs, supported by John’s lap. He absent-mindedly ran his hands down John’s sides as he came up with a plan to get John aroused again, eliciting the faintest of shudders from the fair-haired man below him. Sherlock’s fingers suspended at those slight vibrations, eyes trained on his partner’s face as he did it again, letting his nails lightly scrape on the fabric of John’s shirt. He read it in the slight waxing of John’s sclera and the way the man’s lips parted minutely to draw in a breath. Fascinating.

John watched nervously as Sherlock’s bowed lips curved into a smile, eyes twinkling. How he had yet to cover this part in their sexual escapades was beyond Sherlock, but he was eager to use his new deduction to please his counterpart. Using those skilled fingers, Sherlock played him as he would play his seasoned violin as a musician, knowing exactly how to draw music from his lips. Music, hopefully, to Sherlock at least, because John held the offending noises back, stifling his giggles as Sherlock tickled his obliques, hands roaming across his torso. The doctor’s sensitive peaks pushed up the fabric of his shirt, trying desperately not to rub them against the thin cloth with each slight rise of his chest. 

“I’d love to see you come from this alone, but...” Sherlock smirked, letting one finger trail along John’s penis, swirling circles around the head lightly. “...I’d rather have it coat my insides.”

And with that, Little John was up again, standing erect and proud like the trooper it was. Sherlock’s teasing had eroded away John’s sense of self-control, and the older man grasped Sherlock’s slim hips firmly, licking and biting at the moaning man’s ear as he growled. “God, Sherlock. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll see stars.” 

“Please, please.” Sherlock keened, bucking his hips hazardously into the air, so that if John hadn’t kept both legs sturdy to the ground his chair surely would have tipped over.

With John’s cock lubricated by his previous release, he supported Sherlock’s hips down onto his length, relishing the tight heat engulfing his senses. They fit snugly together, and both took the moment to appreciate being so close to each other. John looked at Sherlock’s face with love and a touch of pride. Disbelief still resided inside him somewhere, that he was the one who shaped Sherlock’s pink lips into a pretty little “o” and made his lashes flutter just so.

As John rocked his hips upwards slowly, he leaned his head forward to nip at Sherlock’s pale skin, watching the color bloom on the smooth white canvas. Sherlock’s hair had plastered onto his skin with sweat, curls framing the sharpness of his jaw and cheekbones lovingly. It was like a furnace inside of him and inside _him_ , a sordid smolder through hooded eyes setting off sparks bouncing around John’s insides. Small breathy noises escaped Sherlock’s lips and all John wanted was to hear more, more. His thrusts grew faster, snapping up his hips each time as his fingers gripped Sherlock’s hips.

Sherlock wasn’t keeping it together nearly as well as he made it seem. His hips gave a tremor as they found the best angle for stimulating his prostate, moving with the rhythm of John’s thrusts. He could hear the heated slapping of skin against skin, harmonious to John’s deep voice and his own higher moans. On a particularly hard thrust, the pale man gave a throaty groan and let his head fall into the crook of John’s neck, tongue lapping languidly but hungrily at the perspiring skin there. John’s eyes widened as his unobscured view found a figure passing by the door, his fingers digging into Sherlock’s ass reflexively. 

Sherlock gave an embarrassingly high yelp as he came, hand reaching out quickly to catch his ejaculate before it soiled John’s white coat. John gave a low rumble of pleasure as Sherlock’s inner walls contracted with his climax, sending a ring of pleasure from the base to the tip of his cock, almost as if squeezing the orgasm out of him. And God, it worked. John pulled out of Sherlock with a heavy, wet _pop_ , watching a few drops of cum trickle down his member stickily.

The pleasure reverberated within them as their lips came together once more, crushing together and bruising as if starved of each other. 

“You are so beautiful.” John wrapped his arms around his husband, hugging him tightly. He breathed in the smell of Sherlock’s disheveled curls, a hint of mulberry shampoo still lingering underneath.

“And you as well, my handsome doctor.” Sherlock pressed a kiss to John’s forehead before standing up to collect his clothes.

\-------------

“Goodbye, my love. I await your presence at dinner tonight.” Sherlock wrapped the scarf back around his kiss-peppered neck and buttoned up his coat.

“Goodbye, dearest. Do find more reasons to visit me during lunch break, won’t you?” John smiled, casually flinging his arm about to spray doctor-brand air freshener over the room.

Sherlock only grinned in reply.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i really need to read more smut to learn lmao
> 
> feedback, comments/kudos etc. appreciated! <33


End file.
